One of those rubber boots kicked between Stanley’s thighs on the floor and spread him wide open. “Ride that boot while you suck rubber cock,” Todd snickered with an evil glint in his dark eyes.
Stanley was very turned on by the callous treatment, and rather than worrying about the jostling men all around, he reveled in the exhibitionist experience. He began to mouth and lick the rubber pouch, feeling thick cock and fat balls beneath. His tongue snaked out to lewdly slurp at the emerald rubber while he began to hump the rubber boot between his legs.
Gary was still beside them, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw the redhead take a bottle of lube from a passing stranger. Next thing Stanley knew, Gary was bent over his shoulder and running rubber-gloved hands down his naked back. Lube-coated gloves found the slit in his rubber shorts and worked goo all over his exposed crack. Those fingers slid deep and rubbed lube all over his sweaty ass valley. As Stanley slurped nastily over Todd’s rubber pouch, that rubber hand worked more lube up into his aching asshole, a finger sliding in and out with smacking nastiness.
Guys flowed past, snickering, laughing, smacking Stanley’s exposed ass or ruffling his golden-blond hair. He sucked the rubber pouch with real fervor, loving the taste of the slick rubber and the feel of the potent male underneath. His hands had come up and greedily groped Todd’s naked butt. Rubber straps from the pouch encased and surrounded the muscular globes, but left the crack open for Stanley’s feverish exploration.
While he humped rubber boot and got felt up by Gary’s lubed glove, he worked his own hands deep into Todd’s powerful butt valley. Todd stared down at him with dark eyes and nodded. Stanley nuzzled the rubber pouch with a gasp and crammed his fingers up a steamy asshole.
Todd began to hump Stanley’s face, his cock beneath the pouch a throbbing rod of iron. The fingers up Todd’s ass were enough to drive him to orgasm. He held Stanley’s face against his pouch and began to jerk and twitch from head to toe.
Stanley felt supremely satiated, not that he had orgasmed again, but that he had gotten this stud off with his kneeling subservience. He rubbed his naked crack over the rubber boots briefly before standing back up on wobbly legs. He was immediately pulled off into the crowd by another hand on his arm.
It was a vortex of rubber hands fondling his ass, rubber crotches opening up to release steamy cocks, and strangely attired men who seemed intent on nothing less than an orgy of rubber sex.
Stanley eventually ran into Victor, both of them addled from numerous sexual encounters and the release of inhibitions that had them looking at each other like strangers. They blinked and laughed and embraced, then wandered off to see what other new discoveries they could make.
Stanley found himself back in the bedroom with the two rubber freaks in their bizarre gas masks. They waved him forward again, and he ended up where he had started. This time the one with the zipper down the front of his rubber suit opened it up and revealed a chiseled torso and throbbing boner. Stanley cradled against him, sliding his hands inside the rubber suit on slippery, sweaty flesh. The other in red mounted Stanley from behind and fucked his lubed ass through the slit in his rubber shorts.
Slithering over and under rubber, Stanley moaned out his second orgasm with spewing cock up the ass and spewing cock in his hand. He had only room for one thought in his dazed mind.
How would he ever go back to who he once was? Stanley the farm boy was now Stanley the rubber freak.
And he liked it.
THE BALLOONATICS
Gregory L. Norris
Helmut,” she said.
His dick tingled in response to the musical sound of her voice. She didn’t address him as Hel-moot, insinuating that he was invisible, or Hel-mutt, as though he were a low-breed dog, but close enough to Hel-met to believe she was talking to the head of his cock as much to the one above his crisp black bow tie.
“Or should I call you ‘Agent Verland?’”
“No need for formality, Agent Pommers. Besides, I prefer the former.”
So did Helmut’s dick, which swelled in response to the clearing of her throat. Cold tingles teased his flesh along that sensitive patch of skin between his balls and his asshole, so like that feeling of sitting naked on a balloon, crushing it beneath your buttcheeks, the explosion of its surrender gusting over your most private areas, a stray tentacle or two of its plundered corpse snapping against you—hard—in one final act of defiance. Her voice was that powerful; Helmut realized he’d gotten painfully erect.
“In that case, please call me Vanessa.”
Helmut shifted his pale blue eyes to his right, and the bar seat Vanessa Pommers now occupied. A second glance confirmed his first impression: she was the hottest piece of tail he’d ever crossed paths with. Black hair in a bob, just this side of short enough to be androgynous, eyes as eerily green as his were blue, full red lips, long shapely legs in black stockings, the rest hidden by an ostentatious full-length coat of shiny red material. She looked like the shapeliest animal ever twisted into existence by the hands of a party-game magician. He wanted to sit on her, see if she would pop beneath his asshole, tickle his balls. Those, in response, felt heavy and loose, so full of come and desire, he imagined them sliding down his pants, all the way to his ankles, one apiece.
He swiveled his hips, pinning his stiffness at an awkward angle along his left leg, and extended a hand.
“Vanessa Pommers,” Helmut sighed. He released her from the shake and raised a pointer to beckon the bartender.
The slow curling motion of his finger elicited a purr. “I love how you say my name.” She ordered a dry martini. Pure class. “It sounds so…dirty, as though you’re talking to certain… parts of me, Helmut. Helmut,” she repeated. “Your name is so powerful, so phallic.”
“Vanessa Pommers,” Helmut said, licking his lips around the words.
Her drink arrived. Vanessa sipped it, while Helmut mentally undressed her.
“Nice coat.”
“This little number? It’s all a part of the disguise, the mission.”
“You don’t look undercover.”
“You haven’t seen under the covers. Yet.”
Coyly, Vanessa unbuckled the coat and let the two halves fall open. Helmut saw she would have been naked underneath, if not for the matching rubber bra and panties, spray-painted onto a landscape of pale flesh.
“For our needs, I’m covered, Agent Verland.” Vanessa ran her tongue around her red, red lips. “I mean, Helmut.”
“If you keep saying my name like that, you magnificent bitch, you’ll be covered with my seed.”
Vanessa closed her coat, sipped her drink, smiled that luscious red smile. Helmut ached.
“Working with you,” she said, “is exhilarating, like that sting you feel when a rubber band shot in your direction strikes naked thigh.”
Helmut adjusted his straining erection. He wasn’t surprised to discover it was leaking a stain of wetness into the tent above his crotch. “I’d love to launch a hundred your way.”
“Once,” she continued. “I wrapped a dozen around a fellow agent’s johnson. Skinny tan ones. A few thick colored bands, blue and purple, the kind they use to bunch root vegetables together with. How ironic is that? Right around his balls, too. Before long, he was blue and purple and begging for release.”
“Marry me,” Helmut said.
Vanessa pursed her lips. “First, we have to infiltrate, then confiscate. As you know, there exists a secret society with plans to overthrow the status quo. All thanks to their new wrinkle in science.”
“So the plan is to infiltrate, confiscate, dominate, devastate… and then copulate?”
“Perhaps we should move that last part forward in the queue,” Vanessa said, tipping her eyes toward the obvious bulge in Helmut’s tuxedo pants. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to masturbate.”
The men’s room attendant, an older Latino with a cheery smile, wiped the counter down and removed his seat to guard the door from the outside, a hu
ndred-dollar tip richer.
Vanessa opened her coat and hopped onto the counter. The squeak of her rubber-covered ass gliding across the granite counter was magical, melodious. She crossed her legs, but Helmut soon uncrossed them. Lowering between her knees, he stole a look at his reflection in the mirror: short blond hair in an athletic brush cut, ghostly blue gaze, and rugged good looks that belonged to a modern-day specimen of man, stylishly decked out in full black tie and jacket. But for an instant, he found himself staring into the face of a primitive savage, a creature that worshipped fire, feared the night, and lived in a cave. Her wiles had devolved him.
Helmut yanked the rubber panties halfway off Vanessa’s ass, felt them resist, and released them. They snapped backward, ricocheting against bare flesh. Vanessa bit back a howl. A wicked smile blossomed on her lips.
“You naughty, naughty girl…”
There was enough give to work them aside, to expose her pretty pink slit without removing them completely—which suited both participants just fine.
“The company worries that the enemy agents are planning an aerial assault,” she said between sips for breath.
“Using blimps,” Helmut said.
Teasing her clit with his thumb, he spread her lips, finding her not only wet, but flowing. He fucked her, in and out, using a long, lone finger. Helmut’s mouth feasted. Vanessa’s sopping pussy tasted sweet, with just a hint of rubber. Heavenly.
“Yes, blimps, balloons. You’ve been fully briefed.”
“Debriefed,” Helmut corrected, injecting his tongue into her.
Vanessa groaned a symphony of indecipherable, half-formed words in response.
Helmut stood. That his cock didn’t punch through his pants and throw itself upon her surprised him. “Several transactions between the go-between, Dinsmore Corp., and a major airship manufacturer…”
Vanessa slid off the counter and down to her knees. Unzipping his pants, freeing his length and balls, she said, “The application is new, lightweight, quite explosive if you consider the ramifications. The company obtained a sample during a night raid on a suspected laboratory last month. They found it to be extremely effective, volatile in terms of what it could do….”
Her words gusted across Helmut’s cock, now released to thrust up into the curvature that signaled its greatest stiffness. His erection had gone from merely pink to the marbled red-purple color of meat-counter selections. Helmut’s foreskin had become a noose; his balls drooped halfway to the floor. The neat landing strip of trimmed blond hair above his root made all of it look even bigger.
“Your cock is wetter than my pussy,” she said. “I want to chew on it, like it’s one gigantic pencil eraser.”
The gentle scrape of her teeth, the liquid warmth of Vanessa’s tongue gliding down his shaft, tickling his balls—these little slices of paradise occurring in the men’s room of the city’s most exclusive private watering hole—were almost secondary to the sound of slick pussy being rubbed against even slicker rubber panties.
Vanessa sucked each bloated, hairless ball, one at a time. She pushed Helmut’s pants to his knees and wormed a finger into his asshole. Her nine other talons gently raked his muscled cheeks.
“I’m thirty-two, not eighteen,” Helmut sighed, “but if you keep doing that, I’m going to be forced to fuck that glorious cunt of yours with my tongue, not my tool.”
Vanessa rose, a wicked little smirk curling on her lips. She reached into one of the coat’s pockets and fished out a foil packet.
“We can’t have you ejaculating prematurely, not with the fate of company and country in jeopardy.”
Helmut tipped his chin at the rubber. “Company issue?”
“Of course.”
Helmut reached for it.
Vanessa drew back, putting it out of reach. “Allow me.”
She tore open the foil. Mercifully, Helmut saw, the condom was extra large. But instead of rolling it down the slope of his length, Vanessa shook it out into a tube and blew into it, making a cock-shaped beige balloon. She then deflated the balloon, formed a knot around Helmut’s shaft and balls, and tied it tightly. The insane pressure sent Helmut to the tops of his toes in his sharp black loafers.
“A little trick I picked up from another agent. You’ve heard about ‘the Anselmo Incident?’”
“Let me show you one I picked up from an enemy agent who could insert five rubber balls into her…”
“Wait, I’m not done yet,” Vanessa interrupted.
She pulled another rubber out of her coat pocket, tore the packet open, and popped the collapsed latex ring into her mouth. Lowering to her knees once more, she took his straining length back into her mouth. Every inch of Helmut’s flesh erupted with pins and needles as he realized what she was doing.
Agonizing seconds later, she removed her mouth from his cock. Helmut glanced down to see the condom wrapped perfectly around his manhood, rolled into place without the aid of a single finger.
He grabbed Vanessa by the hair and bent her over the counter. There, he rough-fucked her to the most intense climax in recent memory, one so powerful, he nearly forgot about the dangerous mission that had brought them together for the night.
Helmut eased his cock between Vanessa’s tits.
“Shall I remove this first?” she said, indicating the red rubber bra.
He grunted a negative. With her on her knees before him, his reawakened length gliding freely through her cleavage, he found himself again facing the savage in the mirror.
“Wait,” he grunted. “Wait…”
Helmut’s cock drooled across Vanessa’s red rubber tits. The drag of his balls along her torso was almost too much to process. Oh, and when she tugged on them…
“Now!”
Vanessa maneuvered her fingers behind his scrotum. She gave the condom tied in a figure eight around his cock and balls a final tug before releasing it. The room dissolved around Helmut. He moaned. His second orgasm of the early night nailed her, right in those gorgeous green eyes.
“I loved that bit at the end. You’re a hell of a marksman,” she said some minutes later, as they cleaned up.
Helmut picked one of the empty, dead rubbers from among the many discarded in the sink and snapped it against the taut pink nipple that had somehow gotten dislodged from her bra during the final thrusts of his tit-fuckery. Vanessa yelped.
“Stop that, please,” she begged. “If you don’t, I’m going to want you to fuck me for a fourth time, which means we’re going to be late to the party, and time is of the essence…”
She applied a final touch of lipstick. “You know the two sedi-tionists we will be looking for. The woman, Lady Darbi Dinsmore, she could be sympathetic to the cause, as we believe she doesn’t fully realize where her late husband’s millions are being channeled. The man she’s with, Victor Rubel, has been identified as our prime target. He’s mean and tall, ex-military. This is all a big game to Darbi, who fancies herself an entrepreneur now that her industrialist husband is out of the picture. But Rubel…this is his raison d’être. He’s an outcast, the type of man who has always resented authority and the status quo.”
Helmut grabbed his crotch and shook it. “I’ve seen the prick’s dossier. The company knows quite a bit about his plans for the new world order.”
“The nightcrawler who tailed him—and led to our raid on his laboratory—learned he and Lady Darbi Dinsmore will be attending this private gathering upstairs.”
“What if they won’t let us in?”
Vanessa gave her panties a snap, then buttoned up her coat. “We’re covered, Agent Verland.”
She sucked in her freshly painted lips, exhaled a cool sigh into his face, upon which a trace of his musk could be detected.
“Helmut. I’d say crashing that party is the least of our worries. Are you packing, just in case?”
“You already know what I’m packing, Agent Pommers. Agent Vanessa Pommers.”
She crushed her lips to his and ogled the meaty fullness
of his still-hard dick, a silent promise of the fun that would follow the danger waiting for them several floors up.
A pair of hulking gorillas in pinstriped tuxedos guarded the doors to the Rubber Room.
“You here for the party?” one ape asked, a soupçon of New York accent in his voice.
Tethered to Helmut’s arm, Vanessa slinked toward the door. “What do you think, big boy?”
The gorilla on the right grunted and opened the door, waving them through.
Sultry music slithered out, the kind you hear during runway fashion shows. With it came a mélange of scents: rubber and plastics, aftershave, sweat, and pussy, all blended together, too bewitching to resist. Helmut entered first.
Topless serving women dressed in rubber thongs and high heels swept the room, their trays covered with champagne flutes. An equal number of ripped, athletic surfer types wearing rubber jockstraps and high-top sneakers offered similar lubrication to the crowd.
There were no tables or chairs in the vast room, only a multitude of beds covered in rubber sheets. Upon these beds writhed dozens of glistening body parts: a length of creamy white thigh pinned beneath a man’s hairy ass and a pair of loose, bouncing balls that rivaled Helmut’s own in fullness, a bare foot with toenails painted black being worshipped by a goatee, a four-way in which two well-dressed men were grinding hips together, mouths cautiously touching, hands groping. The pair of women Helmut assumed had come with the equation had hitched up their couture skirts—great mats of sequin-beaded rubber—and were grinding their pussies together, heads tossed back, faces screwed up in expressions of ecstasy.
“Agent Verland,” Vanessa said, her voice sharp as the whip-crack of an exploding balloon.
Helmut faced her. “Yes?”
“Focus. We’re not here for them.”
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